


Tonight

by Anonymous



Category: Basketball RPF, Sports RPF
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-27
Updated: 2018-07-27
Packaged: 2019-06-16 23:15:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15448005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: They like each other when they win, they hate each other when they lose.Tonight, it's a win.





	Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> **I apologize profusely for this.**

They like each other when they win, they hate each other when they lose.

Tonight, it's a win. A win on the road.

Brad tries hard not to fall for John's smile, not to get too carried away by his excitement. John wants Brad to look at him, to see the hunger in his eyes that only grows bigger after a win, to see him smiling and get lost in the moment. John wants a reaction, a permission. It's in nights like this that they can lower their guard.

 

 

The team wastes no time in hitting the showers. They all want to go out and celebrate and make the most out of the road trip. Many of them probably won't get back to the hotel on the team bus. John knew for sure he was going to be one of those, so he didn't give it a lot of thought and decided to shoot his shot. Brad was almost done washing himself when John appeared behind him. He put a hand on Brad's shoulder, then let it slide down his arm-- a touch so light it was almost frustrating, his other hand softly grabbing him by the nape as he leaned in close and said "Got a car. See you at the parking lot." John took his hands off him, stepped back and went on his way. It all happened so fast and Brad was so focused on John's hands' movements that he had to take some time to process what his teammate had just said. Oh, they all do it every once in a while, go out somewhere after a game, usually grab something to eat and trash-talk until they run out of things to say. When it's John and Brad alone... who knows. Yeah, that sounded like a plan tonight.

They do their post-game interview without looking at each other at all.

 

Brad hated the way John made the first move sometimes, he'd come and talk like he was ordering him or something, with that _I know you want it_ attitude. More often than not, that would earn John an eye-rolling and a "Fuck off" from Brad. Sometimes it's hard to keep the balance between playfulness and seriousness. As competitive as they are, in this kind of dynamic they have with each other, it is important for both of them to hold on to their pride, try to be on the same page, and drop the swords at the same time. John has never felt he actually means to say things with a certain tone or anything like that to trigger Brad, he just wants what he wants... but over time he's come to enjoy playing around with it, even if he eventually ends up spoiling it all.

There are also times when their on-court disagreements follow them into the locker room... then everything goes to shit: the team, their backcourt, their chemistry... Only Bradley and John know how much they can get to hate each other. Maybe they don't hate each other, maybe they just hate to lose: lose to each other or lose as a team, losing when it's their own fault, losing when it's the other's fault or losing when it's both their fault.

But tonight they won, tonight they both shone. Tonight there was place for two stars. Tonight there was no jealousy, no stupid decisions, no hard feelings. Tonight they were the best duo, the best backcourt in the league. Tonight they could see how much they need each other. Tonight Brad could feel pride in being the perfect partner for John Wall, in knowing that the Wizards can't do better than him. Tonight John could get the best out of Bradley Beal, and showed the team he can be a leader.

So tonight it was okay, it was okay to hang out together while on the road, fool around.

 

When Brad got to the parking lot, he saw the team bus and some guys leaving but John didn't seem to be anywhere.

Maybe he should hop on the bus and just go rest...

Brad looked around some more until he felt someone come up behind him and wrap an arm around his neck. "Let's go." John guided him to the rental car with tinted windows and they got in it quickly.

 

As soon as the doors were closed John didn't waste a second, he grabbed Brad's face and pulled him closer into a hungry kiss. He pushed him against the window as Brad opened his mouth and let their tongues meet, explore, search-- then suddenly it was all teeth, sloppy, rough, desperate... trying to find a rhythm, trying to find a reason to pull away, and when they did, they found themselves panting, shaking their heads and chuckling, like they couldn't believe themselves. But before they had any time to think this through, John went back at it and pressed his mouth against Brad's neck.

Brad could feel John's breath on his skin, feel him grinning against his neck, sucking gently on it, careful not to leave any marks. He could feel the pressure of every kiss, a little teasing from his teeth-- it was driving him crazy. Brad knew this was all his doing, letting John chase him, John hard against his thigh, John blinded by pure instinct wanting to devour him, John giving all his attention to him... Then Brad would press his hands up John’s shirt and rake his nails down his back and John would lose it, Brad would make eye contact with him and smirk at him and John would let out a low moan before going back to kissing Brad hard. There was nothing John wouldn't do for him in this exact moment. Having John like this turned him on way more than Brad could ever allow himself to admit.

"These skinny jeans look so good on you," John said while running a hand up Brad's leg, rubbing it slowly, his lips still brushing the side of his neck. The rubbing then became tight gripping as his hands got to Brad's ass, kisses becoming more voracious-- John tentatively nibbling on Brad's jaw and chin before laying a trail of hot, open-mouthed kisses down his throat. Then his hand slid up the inside of Brad's thighs, John's fingers finally flirting with his crotch. "Seem to be too tight around this area though." John smiled playfully as he started stroking Brad's bulge.

"I thought that's what you liked about them." Brad replied, his voice hoarse, his mind a blur.

"Yeah." John squeezed him hard through his pants, making Brad hiss out a sharp breath. "You're getting hard."

Brad managed to chuckle, "I wonder why."

John enjoyed this view, Brad trying to keep his composure even in this kind of situation, tilting his head to the side, biting his own lip and closing his eyes as he let John take care of him, some grunts escaping pursed lips when his hand started moving faster and gripping harder, then some needy hums as John nibbled on his ear. Even in this state, Brad would do his best to escape John's gaze, only looks at him when he wants to push his buttons. That certainly bothered John at first, making him try even harder to get a reaction out of Brad, but after all this time John's learned to dig it, he actually finds it kinda arousing in its own way.

If all of this wasn't like a challenge for both of them, they wouldn't enjoy it as much.

 

While Brad was certainly pleased with John's _attention_ , it was in situations like this he couldn't help feeling a little bit uncertain about the position they were in. He wanted to make it work, wanted to feel his pleasure outweigh his uneasiness, but he really couldn't help feeling a little bit uncomfortable-- Actually, he felt uncomfortable as fuck in that position, he was getting the worst part, bumping his head on the window and John all over him making him shift awkwardly in the car seat. He was also really, really hungry, so, despite John's wonderful hands and lips, he couldn't keep going like this, so he tried to straighten himself out and patted John's back, " _Wait- Ahh-_ " He put his hands on John's chest and pushed him back. "I was thinking we could go grab a bite."

John frowned at Brad as he took his hands off him and sat back on the driver's seat. Then his face beamed, "Hmm, I got something you can put in your mouth right now."

"...Seriously."

"..."

"I'm getting outta here."

"You're killing the mood."

"We can't do this here."

"I can drive us somewhere else if-"

" _In the car._ This is no good."

"Yeah? I think someone else here thinks otherwise..." John pointed out while his fingers walked up Brad's thigh.

Brad didn't need to be reminded of how painfully hard he was. "Stop. My legs are killing me from the game and now my back and my head are killing me from this."

"But what are we gonna do about _this._ " This time John reached out to his own bulge, and Brad felt kinda bad because he hadn't returned the favor yet.

"Cool off while we get to the restaurant."

"Gon' be hard... I mean, it's already _hard._ "

"Seriously, stop. That stupid smile better be gone too." Brad let out a sigh when John's smile didn't drop. "Look, we'll see when we get back to the hotel later, for now let's just... cool off." He scratched his eyebrow and tried to switch gears. "Got Axe or something? Your saliva's all over my neck."

John raised his eyebrows, "Hotel... aight. Food better be good." He reached out for his duffel bag and handed Brad his cologne.

 

When John was getting ready to drive, out of nowhere, Brad wrapped a hand around John's neck and brought their lips together once more, this time Brad taking the lead and taking John by surprise, nipping at his lower lip as John couldn't help smirking, making him angle his head so Brad could deepen the kiss, slide his tongue into his mouth so he could taste him a little more, a little more until they had to break it off. Then a final lip bite as he let go of him, turned his head back to the front, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, put on his serious face and casually said he wanted to eat Japanese. Yes, Brad wanted this as much as John. John couldn't look away just as easily, a lopsided grin creeping across his face as he considered poking Brad about it, but maybe it was better not to push his luck today. He licked his lips and gave Brad a final glance before starting the car and hitting the streets.

 

 

"Damn boy, you almost rip my lip off."

"I should have bitten harder."

* * *

 

 

 

"If we get asked the _'where do we stand among the backcourts in the league'_ question once more I swear to God--"  
They were just starting to get comfortable, the place as full as it could be at almost midnight, and John decided to start the trash-talk session right after they ordered their food.

"Mmm- just let 'em talk." Brad was always one to follow or derail John's rants with the same burning passion John would spout them, but it feels like they've had this same conversation a hundred times already... probably because they've been asked the same thing a hundred times... and they've answered the same way all those hundred times.

"Like what the fuck do they expect us to say?"

"S'okay..."

"No man it's not. They talk 'bout us doubling down and tripling down but if we don't think ourselves we're the best then what's the point?"

"Mhm."

"I ain't backing down."

"Yah." _You’ll never hear them say anything different._

Not tonight, just not tonight.

 

The waiter brought them their dishes, and honestly, John is the kind of guy who talks even with his mouth full, his southern accent only making the whole thing funnier (or obnoxious, depending on the mood), he sipped his soup and looked at Brad over his spoon, who was doing his best to bite back a laugh and focus on the food. It's easy to forget how hungry you are when you're having a good time.

Even so, they can't help thinking...

When they are like this, face to face, after a game, even after a win, even when future seems bright and they can't wait for their next game... They never say it, they never talk about it, especially not in nights like this when they're perfect for each other, when they're sure the sky's the limit and they can reach it together-- They shouldn't be having these thoughts tonight...

Front office have always assured them they're both the franchise, their plan has always been to build around them, they have no problem in making promises to both of them and talking to them in the same way... And John and Bradley have always been okay with that, they both hate change, they only know themselves, they've won together and lost together. They know how things are. But. They _know_ how things are. Maybe if they brought a Kyrie Irving (where does he rank among the PGs in the East, hmm?), if they took you to a Jimmy Butler (an all-around SG?)-- you can come up with any name you want: Westbrook (another athletic, ball-dominant PG?), Harden (didn't they try to pull this off once?), CP3 (a PG that assists his SG?), Klay (3 and D guy?), Lillard (wouldn't their skills be redundant?), DeRozan (but he can't shoot 3s nor play defense?), Kemba (too eerily similar to Wall?)... And that's if they're lucky to be paired up with another all-star. They've played all kinds of scenarios in their minds, analyzed their backcourt rivals from every possible angle... Who could complement them better if not each other? What if the Wizards get a chance to pull the trigger?

They know. They have to win. But will that be enough? League's moving fast. Dynamic duos don't last long.  
One season you're a franchise player and the next one they want to blow it all up. Or perhaps one day you just don't hate change anymore.  
They are gonna leave one day, leave the Wizards, leave DC, leave the fans that watched them grow...  
One question always stands out: Who's gonna be the first one to go?

That's when they stop thinking.

Brad suddenly found himself staring hard at John, wanting desperately for him to look up at him and... he doesn't know.

But John kept his head down for a while, spooning his soup and trying to... he doesn't know.

 

"Would you trade me for Cousins?"

"I ain't the team's GM."

"Aight. Let me change the question-- Would you be okay with said trade?"

"I wouldn't hate it."

"Of course."

"Don't be like that. Like you wouldn't take any other top PG over me."

"You're not a good leader."

"And you are?"

"It's _you_ who's supposed to be the leader."

" _We_ are both the leaders... Still not any better."

"Fuck us then."

"Yeah."

"Yeah..."

"We can work on that together, though."

"Now _that_ sounds more like a leader."

 

A couple more dishes were brought in by the waiter, and as the hunger started to subside, so did the sudden tension between them. They talk animatedly about the game, confidence through the roof as they bring up their own highlights. Then, in what seemed to be a desperate attempt for physical contact —and maybe keep lightening up the mood—, John tried to play footsie with Brad, looking at him with his characteristic playful smile. But Brad was having none of it and just kept eating, he thought the whole 'under the table' thing wasn't even that exciting... that, until he felt John's foot rubbing on his crotch-- he even took off his shoe for it, the contact unbearably soft against the fabric. John's smile quickly turned into a wicked grin. Brad hit him with his characteristic frown and mouthed the words _"what the fuck"_ , the slightest hint of a smile pointed out by his dimples... okay, maybe it is kinda hot-- but for fucks sake... Brad grunted as John kept moving his foot under the table, until he reached down for it and ran his fingers fast along the sole. John started giggling and his foot drew back reflexively. Now they were both giggling like teenagers after fooling around like teenagers.

"Always nice to see those pretty dimples you got." John didn't take his eyes off Brad as he bent down to put his shoe back on.

"You're no good." Brad snorted and shook his head, "Can't take you nowhere."

 

By the time the ice cream dessert came, John changed seats and sat down next to Brad, legs pressed against each other and lips brushing against ears every time they turned their heads and leaned in close to mutter some nonsense and laugh.

"Gotta love a Japanese restaurant serving ice cream..." John took a bite of his dessert, "yet McDonalds ice cream machine's always broken when you're craving a fucking McFlurry."

"Maybe you shouldn't crave it at 1 am." Brad weighed in on the matter while playing with his spoon in the ice cream.

"What about 7 am?"

"When are you ever awake at 7 am?"

"When the club's closin'-- I mean, when I'm heading out to practice."

Brad rolled his eyes, "Of course."

"Gimme." John said while eyeing up Brad's bowl.

"Man I swear I get full just from watching you eat, you still hungry?"

"Me? Ain't you the Big Panda here? You were the one who left nothing on your plates, I'm just trynna help you." John reached out and took Brad's bowl, dove into his dessert with gusto. Brad could only stare at him.

Then John shoved his own bowl towards Brad and offered it to him, "Wanna taste mine?"

Brad shrugged, dug his spoon into John's ice cream and took a big bite, "Mhmm, it's actually pretty goo-"

He stopped himself when he felt John place a hand on his knee and swirl his finger around his thigh.

"You're coming on too strong tonight," Brad caught the roaming hand, put it back on John's leg and patted it, "My 30 points got you in a good mood?"

John laughed, "I'll give you that, if you give me the rest of the night. I'll put _you_ in a good mood."

 

 

"Just remember we have to take a flight in the morning."

"Yessir."

* * *

 

 

 

Brad shoved them both inside the room, crashing his lips onto John's, teeth clashing against teeth as he shut the door and pressed John against the wall —a little revenge for earlier—, doing nothing to soften the kiss as he pushed his thigh insistently between John's legs. He moaned into Brad's mouth, rocking against him immediately. John's hands slid up Brad's ribs, raising the hoodie he was wearing, "Take it off." Brad complied, pulled it over his head, then did the same with his undershirt and let them drop to the floor. John pushed forward once more and brushed their groins together, needy and demanding as they kissed in the same way they always kiss, like they are starving for each other.

John tried to regain some control and walked Brad across the room then pushed him onto the bed, Brad felt the back of his legs hit the edge of it, had to prop himself up on his elbows, and then John dropped down onto his lap. The weight of his body pinned Brad to the bed as John leaned over him and said "Got an idea for tonight."

Brad acknowledged the weight and sat up, moving his hips up to grind their growing erections together, "Hmm?"

"Imma give you a lap dance." John said as he slipped his hand into his pocket and took out his phone, put on some music and turned up the volume.

"Yeah?" Brad reached out for John’s hips, pulling him down higher on his lap, seeking out more friction.

"But you gon' have to be a good boy and keep your hands to yourself." John reached down and swatted his hands away.

Brad chuckled, "No touching allowed?"

"Nuh-uh." His hands on Brad's naked chest, John began to swivel his hips, pressing his bulge into Brad's stomach. 

"What happens if I break the rule?" Brad felt curious and ran experimental hands down John's back, then over John's ass, then up and down his arms, looking up at him smirking.

John grabbed the exploring hands with his own and pushed Brad down onto the bed, rolling his hips down hard. "I know you're a good boy, this shouldn't be a concern _of mine, right?_ "

"So I'm the one who should be concerned?" Brad felt John wiggling his ass on his boner and couldn't help bucking his hips up. "You gonna be a bad boy and stop the show, kick me out?"

"See, you're already enjoying this too much..." John stepped back from the bed and stared down at Brad, "Be thankful I'm in a good mood after your 30-whatever points." Brad grinned at the remark and sat up on the edge of the bed again, following John's every move with his eyes.

Slow and smooth, John unbuttoned his shirt and let it fall off his shoulders then to the floor. He kicked off his shoes and started dancing, his body weaving sinuously to the music.  
Brad's eyes darted from his hips to his abs to his chest and up to his face, noticing how John's lips twitched into a smirk, his eyes dark and fixed in Brad and Brad alone. There was really not a single innocent thing about John Wall. He just wants what he wants.

Brad reached out and pulled him in by his belt loop, "Take these off, too," fingers curling into the waistband of John's pants. Brad tried to resist the urge of tugging them down himself.

This is Bradley Beal at his best, demanding and impatient and not a good boy at all. "You. Ain't sticking to the game plan." John shrugged Brad's hands off him again and climbed back onto his lap.

Brad hummed against John's collarbone, "Coach Wall gonna bench me?"

"I should, you only like playing your way." John gave his hips a slow, deliberate roll, his upper body making a long wave against Brad’s chest, his lower body grinding down against Brad's lap.

"Big bro taught me well." Brad murmured on a suffocated moan.

"Lil bro's very chatty tonight." John stopped moving and raked his nails down Brad's muscled skin.

"C'mon, don't stop. I'll behave." Brad rested his hands on the mattress and encouraged John to keep dancing. "Hey," He started giggling even before finishing the sentence, " _do the John Wall._ "

John shook his head and chuckled at the throwback, so tired of that goddamn song at this point. "C'mon man, I'm trynna be professional here." He put his hands on Brad's shoulders and leaned back, swayed his body in front of him, his tattooed torso moving along with him. Brad had to dig his fingers into the mattress to keep himself from wrapping an arm around John's waist and hold him down. The way John's body seemed to flow so effortlessly, matching the rhythm of the song was quite a sight. He sure knows how to put on a show.

It's in nights like this that John would be mumbling sweet nothings into Brad's ear, _"You're so fucking perfect,"_ As sweet as someone like John could possibly be, _"...it's not even funny... it's goddamn annoying,"_ He kept rocking his hips back and forth on Brad's lap. _"Fuck, you drive me crazy,"_ Brad could see John's wolfish smile, hear John's husky voice and feel John's eager body trying to push him over the edge. _"You have no idea... no... You know it very well,"_ Then Brad would huff a breathless laugh as John said his final _"Fuck you."_  
There's a reason why sweet nothings are called like that. They need the safety of this being nothing, meaning nothing. That's why it's sweet.

John slid off Brad's lap as another song started playing, the faster tempo perfect for John to move his hips from side to side, hands up above his head. Brad focused on the way John's hips swung to the beat, the way he ran his hands over his own torso... this guy's a charmer-- _you're no good._ John sat back on his lap, hips dropping down and dragging hard against Brad's, this time John's back pressed to Brad's chest, his ass grinding against Brad's hard-on. Brad’s hands immediately slid up John's sides, only for him to push them away.

"Lost your three lives. Game over." Brad groaned audibly and pressed in greedily searching for every taste and touch he could get, John entertained him for a while between giggles, but then he stood up from Brad's lap to kneel between his spread legs. "Wait, it ain't over yet."

John ran his hands up Brad's legs, fingers tight and rough against the jeans, "Shit, you were right. I'm horny as fuck tonight."

"I'm not complaining." Brad reached out for John's hands and dragged them up higher.

"For once." John nibbled down his inner thigh.

Brad choked back a whimper, "Want me to?"

"Uh-uh." John shook his head while smiling. He started undoing Brad's belt, pulled it out and snapped it. Then he undid his pants, pulled them down and Brad kicked them off along with his shoes. His underwear next, John didn't even try to tease him this time, went straight to work his cock with his hands until Brad's body started twitching under his touch.

" _Fuck._ " John's hands stopped moving-- no, they moved, he ran them up over Brad's ribcage, across his pecs and along his tats, over his shoulders and down across the taut muscles of his back. Then John went down, lowered his head and pressed his tongue to the base of Brad's dick, dragging it upwards to lick a broad stripe up the underside of the shaft before taking him into his mouth as far as he could, Brad moaning every time his dick slid back in the tightness of John's throat. John hummed and kept dragging the tip of his tongue along the length of Brad's cock, tracing along veins and circling the head until it glistened with saliva and precome.  
He pulled back to breathe and looked up at Brad, who was watching him, his mouth open and his eyes half-closed.  
Then John sat on the floor and showed no signs of wanting to go back to choke on Brad's dick.

"Fuck," Brad tilted his head backwards and huffed, "You can't leave me like this."

"Mmm," John licked his lips and ran a finger across his mouth, "Feel like asking for it nicely?"

"No way."

John lifted himself off the floor, "Then it's my turn now, I've been spoiling you all night."

 _Fair game._ Brad nodded and gestured for John to sit on the bed, and when he did so Brad dropped to his knees and started working on the button of John's jeans, fumbling with unsteady hands. When he finally got the fly open he tugged the pants down out of the way, then leaned forward and dragged his tongue through the fabric of John's boxer briefs, a little tease before tugging those down as well. Brad took John's dick in his hand and moved his fingers swiftly up the shaft and down over the head. John let out a strangled moan and bucked his hips when he felt Brad pressing his lips softly around his hipbone. Brad raised his head and looked up at him with a toothy grin, leaned forward and traced his fingertips down John's chest, following the lines of his tattoos and his defined muscles, then slid his tongue along the dips of his abs, finishing the trail tracing kisses down his stomach, John's body shifting and jumping to every Brad's touch. Then Brad's mouth shifted its attention and centered in on John's hard cock, he parted his lips around it and swirled his tongue around the tip, swiped from the base to the head, ragged gasps tearing from John's throat as Brad kept swirling his tongue over every inch until John's cock went through his mouth, his head moving back and forth as he swallowed around the hot, hard flesh, his hands gripping John's thighs. John put his hands on the back of Brad's head, thrusting further towards the back of Brad's throat.

Brad pulled off to catch his breath, both of them panting heavily at this point. He reached down to stroke his own cock but John stopped him. "Not yet." Brad pouted and John pulled him up and onto the bed, straddling him. He leaned in to suck on Brad's lower lip and reached down to wrap his hand around Brad’s dick, seizing it in a firm grip without warning. John kept building up the rhythm until Brad was rocking wildly beneath him, thrusting up into his hand. Brad arched his back helplessly, his body rising up in pleasure. He leaned forward and kissed John messily, then decided to join him and reached down between them to wrap his long fingers around their cocks, bringing them together. His hand slid easily over the skin, moving with firm strokes, thumb playing over the swollen heads. Brad increased the speed, keeping his strokes sure and steady, and grinned as John got louder in response. They kept grinding against each other's bodies and stroking each other's dicks until their hands grew sticky and hot and they shuddered to a halt, gasping wordless cries with every breath. It hit Brad first, his hips jerking and his whole body twitching as John followed suit, pulling all the tension from their bodies and leaving them boneless and breathless. John smiled against Brad's lips in languid satisfaction.

They flopped down on the sheets together, side by side looking up at the ceiling. "Shit." Breathing hard, their chests rising and falling. "That was _good._ "

* * *

 

 

 

They like each other when they win, they hate each other when they lose.

Tonight they lost. They lost at home.

Bradley doesn't need to try hard to avoid John's gaze. John looks everywhere but Brad's direction.

Back in the locker room, John tells the guys they'll bounce back next game and reminds them of tomorrow's practice. Then that's it.

They don't exchange looks at any time during their press conference.

 

Tonight they had their city, their own houses. Tonight they could go fuck themselves. Everything could go to shit.

 

_But who's gonna be the first one to go?_

 

 


End file.
